Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Regression/confession session

* Not to be like that girl in junior high who complained about having too many potential dates to the dance, but sometimes I wish I were good at less things. What I mean is, wouldn't it be better to focus my energies in one area, and really excel at it, instead of just having these 75% hobbies? But I think the only reason I feel this way is because I'm constantly saturated in media and it creates pressure to be an entrepreneur, so I feel like I should stop screwing around and start a real blog, like a fancy blog on a paid domain with a single topic and SEO it up and take real pictures with a good camera and monetize it and so forth. I mean isn't that how you get a book deal, by proving there is an audience slavering for your smoky-eye vids and DIY body scrub recipes? I'm sure this is just a phase; I was just in Houston hanging out with old college buddies and most of them make more money than me. What's funny, though, not ha-ha-funny but sad funny, is that my brother easily makes twice as much as me and he obsesses about why he isn't worth more too. By the way, this is us, at Goode Company Tacqueria getting a Tex-Mex-brex on Sunday:


* I normally hate cutesy shit (I recently vowed on Twitter that my next book will be devoid of cuteness), but lately all I want to wear is Pink Sugar Sensual, which smells like pink lemonade and cupcakes. Then there was that whole crayon thing. What's going on?

* I enjoyed the debates tonight, not just because Obama was present and holding Mitt accountable, but because the other half of the country was finally addressed (the ones who don't have pensions penises).

* Here are some random lines from the poans (koan-poems) I've been writing over the last few months:
I love when men say the word pretty.
I told myself, “Be thankful for your enemies; they make you more yourself.”
But what if the truth isn’t elegant?

I rarely transgress in a dream; I dream of the guilt that follows transgression.

Time moves so fast I want it to move faster. 
My dream life has its own past, memories I only access when asleep.

But shame, a friend told me, can be comforting. 
Adulthood is knowing that someone is watching, an increasing sensation of things being fixed.

I have a Post-It on my desk that says BE AN ACTIVIST.
The only way past is through.

27 comments:

  1. Hey, at least you have a book deal. (A smaller one, but you have books being published! Better than most people.)

    And the randomness is what I love about your blog. I think if it focused on one thing and had ads and proper photos I wouldn't visit it as much.

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    1. You can't make money with poetry! You have to write a cookbook and then get a Food Network show.

      Yeah, I wouldn't want to change THIS blog. I like being able to write about whatever I want. I just think sometimes about starting ANOTHER site with more focus, dedication, etc. But that's the kind of thing you do when you don't have a job, you know?

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    2. Oh, okay! In that case, I'll suggest a perfume blog where you can geek out to the fullest. (Also I want to read a perfume book written by you, so this needs to make some big bucks.) I'll just call you Eli$a.

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    3. I like it. I like it a lot.

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    4. I would also like to read that perfume book, E£i$a! (It's sure to be a hit in the UK as well.)

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  2. For the past 10 (count 'em: ten) years, I've pictured your brother as a wispy little guy with a shaggy haircut. (See: you with short hair.) So now I don't know what to believe in.

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    1. Ha, really?! He is 6'2" and has certainly never been wispy. :)

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    2. He doesn't look like your brother.

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    3. How do you know what my brother looks like?!

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    4. I've met your brother. That guy is not he.

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    5. So who's this guy I've been hanging out with all my life?! WAY creepy.

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  3. Super-cute picture! You have the same smile.

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    1. Thanks K! Yeah the only resemblance I see is in our big, meaty pork-chop cheeks.

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  4. I, too, possess them, and I am going to say that your & your brother's meaty cutlet-like cheeks are cute.

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    1. Awww. Well, I think you and Elisa are both very pretty, so I guess I have a thing for...meaty pork-chop cutlet cheeks. I have learned a lot today.

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    2. Yeah, you and Elisa are a couple of babes.

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    3. Ha, thanks guys. Especially flattering coming from Bettie Page.

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  5. Pretty post. :)

    Yeah, what if truth isn't elegant?

    I transgress in dreams all the time. Those are the most important dreams I have.

    The poet Claribel Alegria wrote a novel, Luisa in Realityland, in which (among many story threads) the main character Luisa, a young girl in El Salvador, has dreams at night in which she's an artists and paints modern art paintings; there are also various people (real and dreamworld) who show up in her dreams. At one point in her waking life she begins planning a gallery exhibit of her dreamworld paintings, makes a list of which paintings to include in the exhibit, and makes a list of which people from her dreams to invite to the exhibit. Meanwhile her parents appear to be oblivious to this whole side of Luisa's life. All this while in the background the political events of El Salvador play out around Luisa and her friends and family.

    I've rarely had recurring dreams, as such, but from time to time I have recurring landscapes, dream moods, mythical motifs. The dreams of being lost in a labyrinth. (The labyrinth might be a school I used to go to, or a city at night.) The dreams of the tower in the desert. The dreams of finding myself in the ruined collapsing building. The dreams of being on a beautiful sun-dazzled seacoast.

    Maybe not the same thing exactly as what you talk about here (having a past and memories that you access only in dreams), though maybe similar.

    I find that as I'm drifting off the sleep at night, if I can get myself emotionally into the basic feeling or mood of one of the recurring dream patterns (bleak and isolated, or bright and ecstatic, or wild and wandering, etc.), I frequently will have that type of dream again sometime during that night. The key to it seems to be the surrounding background mood of the dream (not the people in it, or the objects, or the ostensible subject matter).

    On my cubicle at work I have a sign (hand-lettered, that I made myself) that says, "When the going gets tough, the touch go to lunch."

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    1. That novel sounds great! Sometimes I like descriptions of novels better than the novels themselves. Poems never work that way.

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    2. "The dreams of being lost in a labyrinth. (The labyrinth might be a school I used to go to, or a city at night.)"

      That was a recurring dream of mine for many years. Often I'd wander down a long stairway to a breathtakingly vast swimming pool. People would be diving into it from great heights. The building was like an old high school, but there was something Lovecraftian about descending to this chthonic abyss.

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    3. I have dreams that I'm trying to catch a flight (usually international for some reason, though I've only been on one international flight, or two I guess if you could the return trip) and I can't find anything to wear, have misplaced my luggage or purse, etc....then the airport itself might have like, a missing walkway or staircase so I'm trying to get between levels that are like 30 feet apart.

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  6. I often wonder if it's capitalism that drives me to diversify the "products" I produce or my own wide-ranging interests: either way, I think dreaming, wandering, and "professional dilettantism" along with book-length projects that find their form eventually, is an honorable (and sweet-smelling) goal!

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    1. The [Something] Dilettante would be a good name for a blog! The Dapper Dilettante? The Thrilletante. The Brillettante. Working on it. :)

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    2. The Drillettante: blog of an amateur dentist
      The Trillettante: blog of an amateur piccoloist
      The Pillettante: blog of an occasional upper-popper
      The Quillettante: blog of someone who occasionally wears a porcupine costume

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  7. You could write a series of detective novels, about a detective who writes a column where she reviews perfumes, and who has a separate past and memories that occur in her dreams. She would occasionally get clues from her dream past or dream memories that would help her solve mysteries in the waking world.

    "The Case of the Dapper Dilettante." (I wonder if Erle Stanley Gardner ever used that one?) It could be about a hugely famous poet, with fanatically loyal readers and equally fanatical people who hate everything he stands for, who is found murdered in his hotel room at the AWP conference. The detective has to figure out which of the 10,000 or so possible suspects bumped him off.

    Just a thought...

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